Traitor. You've been replaced.

Yep. He's a traitor. On Saturday, halfway through a load of urine-soaked bedding, it died. I knew it was coming. I knew it. It kept stopping mid-load and having to be started again. It was much more temperamental about spinning and getting off-balance than it had been. I had mentioned to the Bookworm King that it was in its death throes. He was sure I was wrong.

BUT, thanks to both my in-laws' Christmas present for us and a really good deal, we have replaced him.

Here is The Replacement:

Folks, I think I'm in love. He's quiet. He gets the clothes cleaner. He scrubs the diapers better in less time. He's quiet. He uses less water. He uses less electricity because he's faster. He's - didn't I tell you? - He' QUIET!

And, he's entertaining.

"The Common Stuff Of This World..."

You know how sometimes you read something on a blog, and you think something like, "Gee, I want to think about that more and I might have something to say about it later and I certainly don't want to forget about it." So you cut and paste into an new post and save it as draft and wholeheartedly believe that you'll get to it later in the week? Well.....

A MONTH ago, Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer posted this quote from Elisabeth Elliott:

When women--sometimes well-meaning, earnest, truth seeking ones--say "Get out of the house and do something creative, find something meaningful, something with more direct access to reality," it is a dead giveaway that they have missed the deepest definition of creation, of meaning, of reality. And when you start seeing the world as opaque, that is, as an end in itself instead of as transparent, when you ignore the Other World where this one ultimately finds its meaning, of course housekeeping (and any other kind of work if you do it long enough) becomes tedious and empty.

But what have buying groceries, changing diapers and peeling vegetables got to do with creativity? Aren't those the very things that keep us from it? Isn't it that kind of drudgery that keeps us in bondage? It's insipid and confining, it's what one conspicuous feminist called "a life of idiotic ritual, full of forebodings and failure." To her I would answer ritual, yes. Idiotic, no, not to the Christian--for although we do the same things anybody else does, and we do them over and over in the same way, the ordinary transactions of everyday life are the very means of transfiguration. It is the common stuff of this world which, because of the Word's having been "made flesh," is shot through with meaning, with charity, with the glory of God.

In this season of doing the same things over and over all day and often all night, I found Elisabeth's wisdom rather encouraging. I love to create things - and if I get past my own perfectionism, sometimes they come out pretty good - I just don't have time to make anything now. I love to cook, but even creativity in the kitchen is limited by either #2 boring, repetitive eating habits or #3 hanging on my leg and whining or #4 screaming because you just can't cook and wear a baby at the same time. Praise the Lord for Pass Your Plate! Before I had #4 I went and made a bunch of meals and stocked up, and then our Sunday School class gave us a gift certificate to PYP and we used a free assembly coupon to further fill the freezer. We're about halfway through our stash. I'd better start saving back some grocery money and planning another trip. (Now THAT was a tangent - one that must be noted on the checkbook and the calendar.)

ANYWAY - if I can harness the brain cells for a moment, I must say that I am reminded by Elisabeth just how lucky I am to be able to stay home and clean my house and cook for my family and care for and educate my children. So when my husband is working late, my children are whining, the washing machine is broken, the tire blows out and time for myself is nonexistant - I am reminded that I have this blessing poured out on me: I love my job. While the ritual of it may leave me rambling on like an idiot, I know that I'm making an investment in the future, and I'm fulfilling the calling God has for me at this time.

And then we were rescued...

It's Tuesday. So this morning we went to Bible study - because it's Tuesday, and that's what we do on Tuesdays.

And then we made plans to meet friends at Mazzio's because it's Tuesday, and that's what we do on Tuesdays.

So, we were tootling along on a rural highway between what #2 calls "the Tuesday church" and Mazzios. It was raining lightly. #2 was talking about garage doors, as usual. #3 was dozing in his car seat, as usual. #4 was screaming, as usual because he doesn't like the car...yet (she says with great faith). I was settling in for the 15 minutes trek and tuning #4 out and just as I turned on some Hillsong there was a great pop and much jiggling.

We got pulled over onto the side of the highway and discovered that the left wheel tire had blown out. Our friends saw us pull over and turned around - I sent them on to Mazzio's knowing that I wouldn't be going to Mazzio's because I'd be going to Hibdon's Tires by way of McDonald's after I figured who was going to come help change this tire because the lug nuts were put on with a speed wrench, so there was no way I could get them broken loose without more leverage. I'm not Olive Oyl, but I'm not Wonder Woman either (but #2 would really get a kick out of an invisible plane). So, after I surveyed the damage, I sat back down in my seat and did the only logical thing any woman stuck on the highway with an inquisitive boy, a sleepy toddler, and a screaming newborn would do - I prayed.

When I opened my eyes, I realized that I could see my brother-in-law's driveway - and his truck was in it. I flipped through my numbers on my cell phone and found his - praying that was the right number, I dialed and he answered (ya'll don't know what a miracle that was) and he promised to come to my rescue - though tire-changing isn't his forte - he's a carpenter, not a mechanic.

As I hung up, a beat up brown car pulled up behind me. I didn't panic, but there was a rough-looking guy in it, and I was pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I got back out. He walked up and said, "Gotta jack?" I took the Grand Caravan-specific tools out of the tire well and handed them over. Uncle Matt (my BIL) pulled up behind us, so I felt safer and went to figure out how to get to the spare down. (Do you know where the spare is in your minivan?)

About that time, I realized that #4 was still screaming and I was wearing the wrap I had been carrying him at the church. I pulled him out of his car seat and tucked him back into the wrap. #3 was sound asleep, slumped over in his car seat. #2 was asking questions faster than I could answer them, but at least he was obeying me and staying in his booster seat.

The tire was successfully changed. I thanked the rough-looking mechanic-angel and Uncle Matt, stowed all the tools and buckled #4 back in (screaming ensued).

I called the Bookworm King at that point to tell him the story and ask him to call ahead to Hibdon's, explain my situation and ask them to please put me (and my three monkeys) on the waiting list then in order to shorten our wait. We went through the drive-through at McDonald's to get some lunch (because my sweet wild boys do sit somewhat still long enough to eat - particularly if chicken nuggets and French fries are involved). I called my dad (a mechanic) to learn something about tires so that I wouldn't get jipped at the tire place. Then we drove past the Hibdon's to go though another drive-through at another McDonald's because the first McDonald's forgot the straws and the thought of a 15 month old trying to drink milk out of an open cup in my nice new double stroller was rather unpleasant. #4 was still screaming.

Upon arrival at Hibdon's, I tucked #4 into the wrap again and moved #3 to the front of the double stroller and went over the rules with #2. We walked in and the girl behind the counter announced that we were next on the list. She knew right who we were - I guess that there aren't that many women who bring all their babies to the tire store. We settled down in the chairs and stroller to enjoy our clown food.

Just as we were finishing up and I was starting to wonder just how much good behavior #2 had in him, #2 ran to the door shouting, "GRAMPA!" My father had come to my rescue. Entertainment taken care of - he took #2 out to watch them fix the van. #3 was happy with his French fries (rare treat) and #3 drank a bottle and fell asleep. The van was fixed in half the time the girl at the counter had estimated, and the cost was half of Grampa's estimate.

So, even though I have been particularly mad at God, He sent three men to help me today - my father, who my boys adore and is usually willing to help, Uncle Matt (who doesn't often help anyone for free), and the Mechanic-Angel, who I'd love to thank, but I don't know his name.

I'm so thankful that my God is far more faithful than I am.

Confession

I am angry, very angry, at God.

There are reasons for it. Some would say that I'm entitled to my anger. I've cared for a medically fragile child, not gotten the miracle I prayed for, and wound up without the privilege of caring for him. It sucks. (I'd pick a more socially accepted phrase, but there really isn't one for this situation - stinks just isn't strong enough.)

And you know what? Anger is coming out in Bookworm #2 also - he is mad because he misses his big brother, he isn't sure he likes his new role as the big brother, and he is afraid of losing us too. I know he's five and he can't say all that himself, but it comes out in his actions and his stories and his play and his recollections of his dreams. He is mad - and he also has his reasons, and some would say that he's entitled to it.

Really, both of us are angry because we didn't get our way - and we get mad at each other when one of us has to give to keep the peace. We're two peas in a pod, and not everything about that is good.

But mostly, I've got to get my anger under control because he's not going to be able to do that until he sees me do it. Here's a verse from tonight's Bible study lesson:

Up on your feet! Take a deep breath! Maybe there's life in you yet. But I wouldn't know it by looking at your busywork; nothing of God's work has been completed. Your condition is desperate. Thing of the gift you o nce had in your hands, the Message you heard with your ears-- grasp it again and turn back to God.
Revelation 3:2-3, The Message

If I can't get my own heart right and turned back to God and hungering and thirsting after Him just because He is who He is, how am I going to teach and train up my children in His ways?

More prayer and battle-of-the-mind is required on this topic, but my eyes keep closing.

Homemaker Helper #1

Right now, I'm very busy with the seemingly mundane, so I found this very encouraging.

Putting up the school lunch for the children or cooking a good meal for the family may seem very insignificant tasks as compared with giving a lecture, writing a book, or doing other things that have a larger audience; but I doubt very much if, in the ultimate reckoning, they will count for as much.

If when cooking you will think of yourselves as the chemist that you are, combining different ingredients into a food that will properly nourish human bodies, then the work takes on a dignity and an interest. And surely a fairly well nourished with healthful food so that the boys and girls grow up strong and beautiful, while their elders reach a hale old age, is no small thing.

It belittles us to think of our daily tasks as small things, and if we continue to do so, it will in time make us small. It will narrow our horizon and make of our work just drudgery.

There are so many little things that are really very great, and when we learn to look beyond the insignificant appearing acts themselves to their far-reaching consequences, we will, "despise not the day of small things." We will feel an added dignity and poise from the fact that our everyday round of duties is as important as any other part of the work of the world."

Laura Ingalls Wilder, 1913
from Little House in the Ozarks: the Rediscovered Writings

WFMW: Blogging Break

When my house is falling apart and my kids are needing extra attention, it just doesn't pay to have my attention focused on the computer screen. That's when I know I need a blogging break!

It's hard. I love to come and write something in the evenings, but in this particular season, there just isn't always time! My job is to nurture and nourish my husband and children and to keep nature from taking over my house. Right now, reading email and checking up on friends' blogs are all I can accomplish - and that's because I can do those things one-handed. :)

So, I just took a few weeks off - and I bet it will be several more before I am back to regular posting. We are planning a trip to the lake in the near future, and I'll be trying to get some long-planned posts written while I'm up there so that I can post them when I get back.


I must go get some work done because we have friends coming in an hour, but you can read more WFMW posts at Rocks in my Dryer!

A Babywearer's Dream

Adventures in Babywearing is having a contest for a $75 gift cert from MamaKanga. MamaKanga sells all kinds of baby carriers: Wraps, Ring-Slings, Mei Tais, etc. and other things - tights for little girls (not that we have any of those at our house), diaper bags... Nifty stuff. I'd get the BabyHawk Turquoise Gothic Rose Mei Tai on Chocolate straps. It looks bee-yoo-ti-ful. :) And I'm still hunting for a good way to wear the toddler on my back.

To get in on this contest you need to:

1. Sign up on the Mr. Linky.
2. Post about it on your blog by Friday mentioning both Adventures in Babywearing and MamaKanga .
3. Tell what you’d get with the gift certificate.